


Things Never Go Well (Until They Do)

by TheSeabear



Series: Stavik [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Established Relationship, Kidnapped!Kirk, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Worried!Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeabear/pseuds/TheSeabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Kirk is abducted by slavers during a diplomatic, First Contact celebration. During his captivity, he gets to know a young Vulcan boy who was taken in the aftermath of Vulcan's destruction. Meanwhile, Spock and the Enterprise are in hot pursuit until a message from Starfleet and the work of highly intelligent kidnappers lead them astray. Kirk will do anything to protect the boy. Spock will do anything to recover his bondmate. </p><p>But this is Captain Kirk... and for some reason, the universe just wants to kick him in the face one more time. </p><p>(No rape, no non-con; just your average BAMF!Spock and protective!Kirk - will be a series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rinel

The dinner on Rinel was supposed to be calm, quiet – peaceful, even. The Rine peoples were subdued by nature, with soft voices and gentle dispositions to match the delicate blue crystal-like structures that grew naturally up from the planet’s crust and decorated the city streets. Even the air seemed to hum silently with a contented stillness. 

But, like all situations with which James Tiberius Kirk came into contact, what was “supposed” to happen rarely occurred with such ease. 

Commander Spock and Ensign Chekov had mused quietly upon one occasion that the rate of disastrous outcomes increased whenever their Captain decided to tag along – most often in such spectacular ways that even Spock had given up trying to predict possible conclusions. They were simply too extreme to quantify and there seemed to be a lack of logic in trying to encompass the effect of Jim Kirk on unsuspecting corners of the universe. 

Once, this had aggravated Spock to no end; now, he found himself merely amused. The talent of his captain to “add a little excitement” to their lives (as Jim had once defended) only truly made Spock angry when such talents landed his bondmate in Med Bay. 

M Class planet Rinel (Rine’le sholn v’rean to the local inhabitants) turned out to be no exception to the rule. As quiet natives set a large table for a dinner celebrating the arrival of the Enterprise, a massive explosion rocked the hall. A spray of wreckage from across the room rocketed off the walls with volatile force, shattering on impact and raining debris down upon their heads. Screams were swallowed in the billowing dust and loud tumble of rubble from somewhere outside of the great room. 

Spock staggered to his feet when the room seemed to stabilize, phaser in hand, squinting to assess the dining hall through thick, oily clouds of smoke and stone dust. To his left, Uhura coughed. He saw the red of her uniform in his peripheral vision as she stood unsteadily. 

“My communicator is down,” she shouted out, which would seem unnecessary since he stood less than a meter away, but the noise that bombarded them from all sides rendered her voice almost inaudible. 

“Misters Ectson and Raynard?” he called, tasting bitter ash on his tongue as he spoke. Around them, the terrified voices of their hosts began to rise. The second half of their team did not respond. They had been standing on the other side of the room, speaking to a Rine diplomat.

An open window behind them pulled some of the floating debris out, leaving semi-clear air in its wake. 

“This way,” he said, turning to the wall, where the smoke had cleared enough to see. Uhura jogged behind him and held her comm unit to the light. He brought his up as well and saw it, too, had suffered from the detonation. 

It was then – Spock realized with belated shock – that the bond had been unusually silent. Where Jim’s constant, chaotic flow of consciousness normally soothed his mind, there was nothing. He reached for it, logically restraining the panic that threatened to rise. 

The bond was dark. He could not feel his bondmate’s mind. 

“Something has happened to the captain,” he said urgently, turning to seek an exit. They had been waiting for him when the room was thrown into pandemonium. With rising apprehension and alarm, he looked again at the comm – still dead – and felt with telepathic fingers for the thread that linked him to his captain. 

“I’m trying to contact him,” Uhura replied, tinkering with the settings of her unit, which continued to be unresponsive. “I can’t reach anyone.”

Spock scanned the room. There were four doors, all of which were hidden in the thick shroud of dust, but he knew where they were. 

“Continue to attempt contact with the Enterprise. Request immediate emergency personnel and have the bridge lock onto the captain’s signal. Regroup with Mister Ectson and Mister Raynard if they reappear.” Phaser set to stun, he held his breath to minimize inhalation of harmful particulates and ran in the direction of the nearest door. The wide double entry was shut; he put his strength behind the heavy surface and pushed until it slid open. 

This passage – and the next three – were filled with dust, which swelled and swirled as he sped through. His eyes – nurtured by the desert sands of Shi’Kahr, where he spent his childhood – burned, but did not fail him. 

His captain had separated from them 1.3 hours ago to talk to the Matriarch of Rinel, stating he would “catch up later.” He had not returned. Spock did not know if his disappearance had coincided with the explosion or if an unknown series of events had taken Jim beforehand, leaving a window of uncertainty with which he was most uncomfortable. 

He knew one thing: Jim was alive. The bright line of mental threads that joined them still shone, albeit more dimly than was common, and they disappeared into an impenetrable darkness when they reached the boundary of his t’hy’a’s mind. He was alive. His condition… undetermined.

Spock ran. Confused and panicked shouts rang up from the streets outside. The acrid smell of chemically-ignited fire licked the air and stung his nostrils. The hall where he had last seem Jim was just ahead. Just as he turned the corner, a shape on the group brought him to a halt. 

The Matriarch, Ferinis of the Danu Clan, lay huddled by the wall. He knelt beside her. The soft blue striations in her skin were ashen; the frills on her neck – common to the Rine people – were limp. 

Unshielded contact was a dangerous thing, but he was unwilling to guard his mind in fear of cutting off his awareness of Jim. Mentally bracing himself, he swiftly searched for a pulse. Instantly, the barrage of telepathic information told him she was alive. 

He sent a gentle alert through to her mind – not even deep enough to be called a surface meld – but it had the desired effect. Ferinis’s eyes flickered open. 

“Can you hear me?” he demanded. The chance that she had suffered a severe concussion was 79.34%. Still, he attempted to gain her attention. “Can you hear by, Matriarch?”

“Tel’ama…” she muttered. Her eyes would not focus. Steeling himself again, he reached for her psy points. In moments, he was assaulted with images, confusion, pain, and… Jim. 

The memory burst forth in a combination of clarity and fog. They were talking. Captain Kirk of the United Federation of Planets was a young man – younger than any Rine citizen of comparable rank. His capacity for leadership was admirable. 

She wanted to know more about Starfleet and the function of the device he called a ‘phaser.’ As he spoke, she felt apprehensive about the need for such an implement. The only violent people on Rine’le sholn v’rean were the ones who suffered from mental illnesses, which destroyed their previous understanding of peaceful society. If Captain Kirk represented a coalition of planets in which phasers were necessary to keep the peace, perhaps Rine’le sholn v’rean would suffer greater consequences than benefits in joining such an alliance. 

As she opened her mouth to reply, her concerns on the tip of her tongue, a great noise like the shattering of an iceberg broke the solitude of their discussion. She turned – saw the great crystal door to the adjoining wing smashed on the floor – and was tackled just as a group of figures in outlandish clothing pushed their way into the hall. 

James T. Kirk rolled over her, clutching her close. A cry of dismay left her throat in a strangled gasp only to be engulfed in the sound of weapon discharge. Captain Kirk grunted in pain above her and then he was gone. The openness at her side was terrifying – she was unprotected. Horror, stark horror, overwhelmed her. She curled into herself, shaking uncontrollably. And then something hard – a boot – struck the back of her head. 

Spock yanked himself from the memory of feeling his bondmate ripped away, breathing in sharply. Smoke and dust filled his lungs and he coughed harshly. The Matriarch stared up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes. 

Swallowing his anger – his fear – he slid his arms underneath her shoulders and around the backs of her legs and lifted her easily into his arms. 

The courtyard outside was a mess, to put it simply. He saw the ruined crystal structures, the blackened walls and charred flora, and he knew there had been fatalities. Clusters of people sank to their knees beside bodies, screaming their grief. Inside, he felt a similar urge well up, seeking the reassurance of his missing bondmate. 

The two suns were obscured by a massive cloud of dust. Even in the wan light, he could see that the pressed fabric of his uniform was completely covered in white-gray powder and he knew his skin and hair must be equally coated. 

A dignitary – distinguished by his fine black robes – saw Spock and ran over, fingers clawing at his mouth in distress. “Alagh! Alagh! V’nes Ferinis!”

His cries caught the attention of others in the courtyard. They seemed to notice who it was that Spock held. A stretcher appeared and he placed her onto it. 

A crackle came from his comm unit. “-ock! Commander!”

“Mister Sulu,” Spock responded. “Status report.”

“A signal jamming frequency kept us from being able to contact anyone on the planet’s surface until three minutes ago. Uhura, Raynard, and Ectson are all aboard and in the Med Bay. We beamed down four teams of medical and security personnel to help the natives. Lieutenant Winston from engineering and Lieutenant Q’cral from the science department went down with the last team to help determine the source of the explosion.” 

“And the captain?” Spock pressed. 

“No sign of him, Commander. We can’t find his signal anywhere on the planet. Everyone else on the away team resurfaced when the jamming frequency disappeared.” Sulu’s voice reflected the inner tension Spock was currently experience. “We’ll keep looking, sir.”

“Search the long range scanners for any ships in the area,” he instructed. “The captain may have been captured and taken from the planet, in which case further scans of the surface will continue to yield fruitless results.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Spock out.” 

He looked around, lowering his silent comm unit. Rinel citizens had flooded the damaged building, which bore a gaping tear in one façade. It smoked and smoldered, emitting a few errant flickers of flame that continued to eat away at the crumbling structure. In the crowd, he recognized a few members of the Enterprise in their red shirts helping to pull bodies from the wreckage. 

“Spock to transporter room.”

“Here, sir.”

“Beam me up.” There was nothing for him to do here; the scene was still too wrought with chaos and panic to retrieve any kind of valid information regarding his captain or the suspects from the Matriarch’s memory. 

“Right away, sir.”

A weightless sensation accompanied the bright lights of the transporter and then he was once again on the Enterprise. The ensign manning the transporter station nodded a quick salute as Spock left the room at a brisk pace, not wasting any time to get to the bridge. 

“Sir,” Sulu said immediately as he entered, “long range scanners show an unidentified freight-class ship leaving the solar system approximately twenty minutes ago, based on the warp trail.”

“Winston to bridge. Enterprise?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Spock asked, sitting in the captain’s chair. Immediately a sense of wrongness pervaded his mind. This was not his place. The discomfort he felt only emphasized the gaping void where his bond stretched into… nothing. 

“Sir, we’ve detected traces of potassium chlorate and palladium-copper seven,” said Lieutenant Winston. “There’s enough shrapnel here to suggest a type of pipe-bomb. The exterior was coated in a salt solution that increased thermal conductivity, but decreased the amount of fragmented pieces. 

“I would say their goal was to damage the structural integrity of the building, not to kill as many people as they could. But if they really wanted to do harm to the structure, they should have placed more. The security teams are sweeping the area for more, in case there were duds.” 

“If no other explosives are found, the assailants could have merely used the detonation as a distraction. In a memory from the Matriarch’s mind, I saw a group of five men and two women come into the building. They left the Matriarch alive, but it appears they may have Captain Kirk.”

Spock turned to Sulu. “Prepare for warp, Mister Sulu. Lieutenant Winston,” he directed to the disembodied voice from the planet, “the natives of the planet are still in need of assistance. Chief of Security Lieutenant Commander Giotto is in the city. I leave him in charge of all Starfleet officers on the planet for the duration of the Enterprise’s absence; you are to safeguard the natives as prospective applicants for Federation status. Continue with rescue and salvage efforts.”

“Yes, sir,” the engineer’s reply came. 

“Enterprise out. Set a course after the unknown ship, Lieutenant Sulu.” And then after a minute, “You have the conn, Lieutenant.”

Sulu’s ‘yes, sir’ met his retreating back as he left for his quarters to prepare a message to Starfleet Command and log his ascension to the rank of Acting Captain.


	2. Meeting New People (Kinda Sucks Sometimes)

Kirk blinked wearily at his one of his captors. So far he’d seen two different men and a female, but he knew there were more. Now he was held to the bulkhead of a small room by inch-thick cables, facing off against the man he’d decided to call Asshole. 

Asshole was a heavy-set humanoid with a thick jaw and no hair, which Kirk though was beautifully cliché. Every team of bad guys needed a brawny bald guy. 

He and Asshole – and Asshole’s associate Chuck, short for Woodchuck because of his groundhog-like teeth and weasel nose – didn’t get along very well. 

“How’s the room service here?” he asked. Asshole grinned and spat at Kirk’s feet. “Delicious,” he said flatly and resigned himself to staring at the walls of his tiny enclosure. 

A horrible rattling came from somewhere below. Then a wheezing, like a miner with black lung. It got louder. “Please tell me that’s not the engine.” Asshole just grinned again. He was beginning to think the guy was neurotic. “It is the engine, isn’t it?”

No answer. The ship gave a jolt and the phaser burn on his arm pulled painfully. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to push this ship that hard,” he said, knowing he was talking to himself at this point. But he was Jim Kirk – running his mouth was kind of a lifetime occupation that he couldn’t quit. At least talking kept his mind from the wet torture of the wound on his bicep, which had reopened and was bleeding again. “Are you trying to outrun the Enterprise? Good luck. She was fixed up just a few years ago. My lady can hit up to warp 12 now. I don’t think your shitty little engine can take much more before it craps out, do you?”

This really wasn’t getting him anywhere, but thinking about the Enterprise made him feel better. And the Enterprise made him think about Spock. If he knew him at all – and he knew Spock very well – the hell his bondmate would drop on this little ship would make what happened to the USS Vengeance look like child’s play. Vulcans were only pacifist up to a point. 

“I’d really like to talk to whoever’s in charge now,” he said, just to keep his eyes from shutting again. Whatever they had used to knock him out had really taken a chunk out of him; every time he woke up, it only lasted about seven minutes before he conked out again. 

“Good,” came a voice. Kirk jerked his head up, snapping out of his exhaustion. “Viktal, go check on the others.”

Asshole – Viktal – heaved himself up and lumbered out, a secretive smile dancing on his large face. It was starting to creep him out, honestly. 

A new man closed the door and dropped into Asshole’s vacant seat. He was human. Dark gray hair colored his temples. The cut of his jaw and brow gave him a wolfish-look. When he spoke, Kirk saw his teeth were blackened. 

“And you are?” 

“Ikarus,” the man said. “From ancient Greek mythology.”

“Well then, you’re sort of fucked from the get-go, aren’t you?” Kirk replied. “Planning to crash and burn anytime soon? I can pretty much guarantee it when the Enterprise catches up with us.”

“Threatening me so soon?” Ikarus smiled, showing off his black teeth. “Let me show you something.”

He whistled. The female appeared – he’d fondly named her Bitch-Queen – and Ikarus spoke softly to her through the bars of the door. She disappeared. 

“Now,” Ikarus said. “You’re going to compose a message to Starfleet and the Enterprise. You will tell them you have been captured, but you’ve managed to break free. You will tell them that you are headed for the Dalorian system.”

Kirk frowned. “Why?” 

“To put them off our trail.” Metal clanked somewhere out in the hall. “We are going to Orion. There is a high price on your flesh, Kirk, did you know? It seems the females of Orion are fairly taken with stories of your exploits.”

“I still don’t see how you’ll compel me to do any of this,” Kirk told him. “Last I checked, my anti-compliance training with terrorists and kidnappers was up to date. You can’t make me do anything.”

The door opened. The female shoved a small figure, no more than 40 inches in height, before her. Kirk stared with wide eyes. 

The boy stared back. All of the times he had imagined Spock as a child, this is what he had pictured, although not in captivity. 

He was a Vulcan, perhaps five years old. A green cut marred his cheek. Twin peaks of Vulcan ears broke through black hair that badly needed trimming. He searched for words to say – anything to keep Ikarus and his band of shitheads from hurting the boy. 

Instead, what came out was “What’s your name?”

The boy blinked at the soft words. “I am Stavik.”

Ikarus dropped his hand to Stavik’s head and began to pet his hair. Stavik flinched. “Don’t touch him!” Kirk snapped. 

His captor smiled again. “There was a rumor going around that you have a soft spot for Vulcans. Nice to have it confirmed. Is that because of your half-Vulcan First Officer, I wonder?”

Kirk gritted his teeth and looked at the boy again. “Are you hurt?”

He appeared to be fortifying himself against the hand on his head; his expression said he was failing. But he met Kirk’s eyes and said, “Negative.”

He brought his eyes up to glare at Ikarus. “What do you want?”

“Write the message. Send it. The boy can stay with you until we get to Orion.”

His jaw hurt from clenching too hard. No immediate solutions presented themselves. “Fine.”

Ikarus shoved the boy into the corner of the room. He stumbled and fell against the wall. “Aleca, bring a PADD.”

Bitch-Queen appeared with the requested item, which she handed to Kirk after removing the cables that bound him to the wall. Pins and needles sank down into his hands as feeling returned to the surface of his skin. “Write,” Ikarus commanded. 

He took the PADD and stared at the blank screen for a second, and then began to write. 

Enterprise, 

I’m alright. My captors had planned on selling me, but thankfully they were a bunch of shitheads. I would like to take this opportunity to emphasize that whatever reputation is floating around that paints me as a moron is completely undeserved. I’m free and heading for the Dalorian system with some others who were imprisoned with me. 

Don’t worry. We’re all fine.  
JTK

He handed it back to Ikarus with a glare he’d learned from Spock. The man read through it twice and handed it back to Bitch-Queen with a smirk. “Thank you, Mr. Kirk. I hope you enjoy life as a pleasure slave.”

Ikarus and Bitch-Queen left, the door firmly closed. A few moments later, the hallway lights went out, leaving Kirk and Stavik cloaked in a smothering dimness. 

“Du ek’muhl ha?” he asked softly. [Are you okay?]

For a moment, there was silence, then, “Ha.” [Yes] After a long minutes, his eyes adjusted enough to the darkness that he could see the boy huddled against the wall, looking back at him. “Uf dur stariben Vuhlkansu tor?” [How do you speak Vulcan?]

Kirk smiled, remembering long hours sitting with Spock in the science labs waiting on some experiment or another. He would bring his PADD and ask about Vulcan grammar and vocabulary until he had enough confidence to speak the language out loud, after which point Spock took a personal interest in making sure his captain didn’t mangle the pronunciation too badly. “T’nash’veh t’hy’la.” [My t’hy’la.]


	3. Following a Lead

Spock spent every moment possible on the bridge. He’d abandoned his experiments on the geological samples from Theta Tau VI in favor of sitting apprehensively in the captain’s chair and, when unable to be productive there, reading Jim’s message over and over again in the quarters he shared with his captain. It had been seventeen hours, forty-two minutes, and eleven seconds since the Enterprise had left Rinel. 

They had not yet overtaken the craft that had so boldly spirited away with their captain, a fact that burned ever-present in Spock’s mind. So, logically, he had decided to make himself as productive as possible to use time efficiently until they were successful in tracking down their enemy. That this practice did nothing to expedite the process was a detail he chose to ignore. 

“Damnit man, I never thought I’d say this, but you’ve got to calm down,” McCoy finally barked when Spock returned to the Med Bay for the third time to check on the condition of Mr. Raynard, who had suffered a fractured spine in the explosion. 

“Forgive me, Doctor, but I believe you are mistaken,” he replied, hands tucked neatly into one another at the small of his back. “I am completely calm and to suggest otherwise is illogical at best and insulting at worst.”

His attempt at meditation had been a dismal experience, but he knew his control had not yet slipped past accepted Vulcan norms. Losing control at all would be of no help to Jim. He viciously stamped out the fret that picked at the threads of his mind and schooled his expression into a visage of cool puzzlement. 

McCoy dropped the PADD he’d been studying on his desk in exasperation. “Vulcans don’t lie, my ass. You’ve been a wreck since we set out. Don’t forget we’ve played poker together and I know your tell; you’re blinking more than usual and every once in a while, you get this frown like somebody spat in your soup.”

He couldn’t help but raise a brow. Dr. McCoy’s tendency toward metaphor had increased since setting out on their five-year mission. Or – he allowed – that tendency had remained constant, but Spock’s interaction with him had increased, leading to a higher awareness of the doctor’s habits. 

“I assure you, I am quite well,” Spock said. “I merely wished to inquire as to the condition of –”

“Marcus is fine,” McCoy interrupted. “He’ll be back on his feet in a few days.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock said, turning on his heel to exit. 

“Spock,” McCoy called as the door slid open. He turned to acknowledge the doctor. “Jim’ll be fine, Spock. Don’t worry.”

Spock nodded and exited. How far they’d come since their initial meeting that Leonard McCoy would initiate reassurance, he mused, returning to the turbolift for the bridge. 

“Sir, we’re getting a message,”Uhura announced as soon as he stepped out. Her hand was poised over the comm station, indicating that she had been about to call for him when he arrived. “It’s in Standard…”

A few seconds later, a bright smile appeared on her face. “The signal is headed away from us, in the opposite direction. I think it’s the captain, sir.”

“The message?” he prompted. 

She nodded. “Enterprise, I’m alright. My captors had planned on selling me, but thankfully they were a bunch of shitheads – sorry, sir,” she grinned and continued speaking “– I would like to take this opportunity to emphasize that whatever reputation is floating around that paints me as a moron is completely undeserved. I’m free and heading for the Dalorian system with some others who were imprisoned with me.”

She finished with, “We’re all fine,” and turned to give him a happy smile. Other officers exchanged grins around the bridge. 

“Zat has to be him,” Chekov proclaimed from his station. Sulu nodded. 

“That’s definitely our captain,” he agreed. 

Spock leaned back in the chair. “Could this be another distraction to throw us off course?”

Uhura pressed her lips into a thin line. “I don’t know. The frequency’s integrity is pretty strong – there doesn’t seem to be any interference or tampering. And it’s definitely moving away from our current track, towards the Dalorian system.”

“Do the scanners indicate the current position of the unknown ship?” Spock asked. 

Chekov leaned over his station. “Zey are mowing away from us, sir, but in zee opposite direction. It has not changed course, Keptin.”

“Two separate ships?” Uhura asked, her face a study of confusion. 

“Sensors indicate the captain’s ship is little more than a shuttle,” an officer added from across the bridge.

“Could he have escaped wizout zem noticing?” Chekov asked. “He might be sneaking away.”

“How far to the shuttle, Lieutenant Sulu?” Spock looked at the helmsman. 

“Just over four hours, sir.”

“Plot a course for the shuttle.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sulu changed course. In the viewscreen, stars and planets streaked by. 

“A message from Starfleet is coming through, sir,” Uhura said. 

“In the ready room, Lieutenant,” Spock replied, going immediately to the small conference room used by senior officers. The terminal pinged a notice that he had a message waiting and he opened it. 

Admiral James Komack appeared. Spock offered the ta’al in greeting. “Admiral.”

“Commander.” Komack returned the gesture. “Status on Kirk.”

“The captain is still missing, but we believe he has escaped and is aboard a small vessel with an unknown number of other refugees. The Enterprise is on its way to the location of the shuttle now. Estimated time of arrival is approximately 1100 hours,” Spock replied obediently. The admiral leaned back in his seat. 

“How did you find out that he has escaped?” he asked. 

“A message from the captain himself,” Spock supplied. “The language used in the message leads me to conclude that the individual who sent it was indeed the captain.”

Komack allowed a small smile. “Kirk can be rather colorful, can’t he?”

Spock raised his chin in agreement. “As you say, sir.”

“Well,” Komack folded his hands together, “Let me know as soon as you get Kirk back on board. As much as I want to catch the sonofabitch who had the guts to take a Starfleet captain right from under the nose of his crew, the citizens of Rinel are our first priority right now. Get Kirk, and then return to the planet. We want an alliance ironed out with them ASAP. Understood?”

Spock nodded and offered the ta’al again. “Yes, sir. Live long and prosper.”

Komack signed off. Spock let his hand fall. Four hours, if all was as it appeared to be. Four hours until his captain was back where he belonged. 

An illogical feeling rose from nowhere in particular that told him it would not – could not – be this simple.


	4. Because Kirk is Surprisingly Accomplished with Technology

Kirk didn’t know how long it had been since his captors abducted him. Many, many hours, perhaps even a full day or more. He’d checked every crevasse of the small room for signs of an exit route. He’d called down the hall, to check for other prisoners. He’d even taken off his boots, socks, and belt and tried to craft them into a useable weapon. When that failed, he tried to winch the door with them. That failed, too. 

When he tried to think back on the events on Rinel, his brain throbbed. The pain from the burn on his arm had become a constant buzzing in the back of his mind; thankfully, the longer he ignored it, the less it hurt. 

The buzzing was accompanied by the voices of people. Spock, informing him of when the dinner was supposed to begin. Uhura, quietly attempting to learn the Rine language from an ambassador during a break in their initial conference with the planet’s leaders. The Matriarch, concerned for her people and inquisitive about the nature of Starfleet. 

He smiled wanly and groaned inwardly at the sharp pull from a migraine beginning to pound at the back of his head. He must have disturbed the silence, because Stavik made a noise in his corner, jerking awake. 

“Tra wi ha?” 

Kirk grunted, finding his mouth too dry to talk. He coughed and said, “Yeah. I’m here.”

Stavik settled back, quiet. 

It was just on the verge of being chilly; the room held an uncomfortable balance of overly-cooled, recycled air and unevenly distributed body heat, which vanished too quickly from his flesh. An involuntary shiver ran up Kirk’s spine. 

“Are you cold? 

Stavik looked up at his question. His shoulders and arms were drawn tight, hunched as he was into himself. The moment lingered and then passed and Kirk thought perhaps the boy had chosen to ignore him. Then, “… Yes.”

“Come sit next to me.” He shuffled over and patted the floor to his right. “Humans have a higher internal temperature than Vulcans.” And, on a whim – thinking of his early days getting to know his First Officer – he added, “It would be logical to conserve heat, since we’re both cold.”

Stavik looked like he wanted to refuse, but then a violent shudder wracked his body. A few seconds later, the boy was sitting a foot away, carefully keeping all of his body contained to the smallest space possible. His winged brows were pulled low over his eyes by a frown Kirk was certain the boy wasn’t aware he was making. 

Despite his age – perhaps five years, definitely not much older the six – Stavik displayed all of the hallmarks of Vulcan genius. There was a quick awareness in his eyes that just didn’t fit with the body of a child. His control often slipped, evidenced by the slouch of his shoulders and the pull of his face into a blatant display of his discomfort. But even exhausted, he observed everything. 

Ambassador Spock was the most expressive Vulcan Kirk had ever met… in a kooky, somewhat mysterious but enormously gracious way. As gentle as his First Officer’s disposition tended to be, the differences between young and old Spock were blatantly obvious. Sometimes it was hard for Kirk to remember they were the same person… sometimes he looked at the Ambassador and saw a trace of his bondmate looking back so strongly it became impossible to quell the swelling in his heart. 

Stavik was subdued. Intense, quiet, observant… afraid. Kirk scooted infinitesimally closer, keeping his limbs to himself. “How long have you been on this ship?”

The small Vulcan’s eyes darted to look at him. “I… do not know.”

“Do you remember how they caught you?” he asked, then wanted to smack himself. The point was to not distress the boy. 

Stavik nodded, looking down at his folded arms. He swallowed and spoke, “My parents and I were on course to Vafer-tor. The Vidleeg seized the transport vessel.”

The hard question pressed into his throat; he tried to swallow it. But he needed to establish the situation. If they were to have any chance of escape, he needed to know who else was on the ship. “Stavik, are they on board?” Are they alive? Please say yes. 

His voice was gentle, but he could see the effect it had on his small companion nonetheless. Stavik tensed even further and focused on the floor, holding himself more rigid than the walls around them. “No.”

Oh. The boy didn’t weep. It was not the Vulcan way. The traditions and values of Vulcan heritage were the last connections Stavik had to his family, like so many survivors of the annihilation of Vulcan. One of the first tasks of the Enterprise had been to transport the remaining members of the broken species to their new home world. The shocked silence of that voyage had ripped Kirk’s heart into pieces. 

“Tushah nash-veh k’du.” [I grieve with thee.] The nod he received was so shallow, he almost missed it. On impulse, he reached out a hand and laid it very lightly on the boy’s shoulder. Stavik froze. 

“I’m sorry,” Kirk said, pulling away, feeling somewhat stupid. “Humans comfort each other through touch.”

“Vulcans do not.”

Kirk breathed a laugh. “I know. My bondmate is Vulcan. He’s very… logical.”

After a few seconds came, “Is he comfortable with physical contact?”

Jim shrugged, ignoring the pain in his arm from the phaser burn. “Only with me.”

“What is his name?” 

“Spock,” Kirk replied. “S’chn T’gai Spock.”

“The one who saved Earth?”

Kirk grinned, surprised. There was an edge of open curiosity in the small Vulcan’s voice. “Yes. That one.”

He wondered if there were any other Spocks, besides his and the Ambassador. He made a note to ask, when he got back to the Enterprise. Stavik shuffled into a more comfortable position. They were just a few inches from each other now. 

“How old are you, Stavik?”

“I am six point one standard years of age,” he replied. 

“What do you like to do?”

Stavik tilted his head questioningly. “Do?”

He could almost hear the ‘please clarify.’ It was so much like Spock, he had to hide another grin. 

“Yeah, what do you enjoy?” But he spent a long time getting to know his First Officer, and he knew where that question led: Vulcan exasperation. So he added, “What do you find relaxing? What do you excel at?”

Stavik straightened, as if he were being examined critically. After a moment, he said, “Meditation leads to clarity and realization. It is an adequate and productive means of exhausting time.”

Once, Jim might have rolled his eyes. Now he grinned, feeling tired, but oddly relieved. There was one constant he felt he could always rely on: the logic of Vulcans, even little ones, it seemed. As the darkness seemed to press closer around them, the boy leaned almost imperceptibly nearer. The hair on Kirk’s forearm brushed the fabric of Stavik’s roughly knitted sweater. 

“I read,” he admitted for the sake of small talk. “My father had a collection of old books – actual, physical copies. Now they’re mine. Every time the Enterprise stops for shore leave, I drag Spock into antique stores. He’s a good sport about it, though, because he knows I’ll go to aquariums with him whenever he wants.”

“What is an aquarium?” Stavik asked. 

“It’s a big place that displays water creatures in tanks designed to mimic their natural environments.”

“I have never seen a large body of water,” the boy admitted after a few seconds. His brow furrowed. “I have heard that the surface of Earth is almost entirely made up of water.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. There was a noise outside in the hall. Stavik stiffened, straining in the dark silence. Next to him, Kirk was equally quiet. 

Nothing. “Hello?” Kirk called out. An idea hit. “Hey!”

He shouted again. “Hey! Any chance this thing has a bathroom?”

A female he didn’t recognize moved to the door. She was Orion. “What do you want, slave?”

“Do prisoners get toilet breaks, or would you rather me go on the floor?”

She rolled her eyes in disgust, lips flattening into a thin line. But she put in a code and the door clicked open. “Come on,” she growled. 

Kirk followed her out into the hall. The door closed again and he turned to give Stavik a reassuring smile through the bars. 

There were four doors in the hallway, three to the right, one to the left. At the very end of the cramped space, steps extended downward and to the left. 

The Orion shoved him in the direction of the stairs. The disconcerting rumbling of the engine grew louder as they walked. 

She pushed him down another hall and through a wide area – the cargo bay – which was sectioned off with large cages. One or two led strange creatures, which were bound and chained so heavily to the sides of the crates that they couldn’t move. Their wide, dark eyes followed them as they crossed the bay. 

At last, on a hall that appeared to lead to the bridge, the Orion grabbed his arm and slammed him into the wall. “No funny business, got it, slave?”

A door slid open and she pushed him inside. It was a very tiny bathroom. He didn’t have long. 

As quickly as he was able, he searched the space. The side of the faucet was pressed with “DTR-20471 FR-CLS.” A freighter, then. Capable of warp, but not fast enough to outrun the Enterprise by any stretch of the imagination. 

No cabinets or ventilation shafts or openings of any kind presented themselves when he slid his fingers hastily over the sleek, metal walls. The toilet itself was utilitarian in design, built straight into the wall to minimize spatial impact. He fished around the edges, looking for – YES!

A triumphant smile overtook his face. There was an override panel on the wall behind the toilet bowl. Standard backup for water system failure. He peeled the cover off. A series of buttons brightened, illuminating a mini display screen and next to that, a long, narrow rod with an input/output diagnostic cable inside. He snatched the rod and stuffed it into his briefs, wincing at the cold. 

Very carefully, conscious of his time, he wedged his fingernails into the edges of the display screen and pulled. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, very slowly, it loosened and, with a slight scratching noise, came away from the panel. 

Kirk stuck his fingers into the revealed socket and yanked on the wires until they came free and then he stuffed the small unit into his underwear with the diagnostic rod. Together, they weren’t larger than his first three fingers. Large enough to be uncomfortable, though. 

He replaced the panel cover, reached over to trigger the sensor that would flush the toilet, and then stood to wash his hands very noisily. 

The door slid open with a hiss. Before he could turn around, the Orion shoved him hard against the sink basin. Water splashed up on his shirt. She kicked apart his legs and pressed what felt like a phaser to his lower back. 

“Don’t move,” she snarled. With one hand, she patted him down, feeling up his pant legs and around his waistband. He held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t be thorough. When she finished, she stepped away and smacked him hard across the back of the head. 

He grimaced and turned. She pointed him down the hall again, keeping the phaser trained on his back as he walked. The objects in his pants slid and pinched. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from crying out like a baby. Somehow he managed to walk somewhat normally back the way they had come. 

Stavik’s eyes were trained on him the instant he came into view of their lovely compartment. He could see now that the other rooms – also outfitted into cells – were empty. 

The Orion left after she closed the door. Her footsteps faded down the hall. A silent moment passed. 

Jim heaved out a massive breath he’d been holding in. He unzipped his pants and shoved a hand into his briefs. Stavik looked thoroughly alarmed when he pulled out the little display screen and the rod, grinning. 

“This should be enough to override the computer controlling the door,” he explained, coming to sit down where he wouldn’t be immediately obvious from the hallway. 

“You believe you can craft such a device?”

“Yeah,” he said, fiddling with the exposed wires of the screen. The darkness of the cell made it difficult to see. “I used to do stuff like this all the time growing up with my stepdad. It just got more elaborate at the Academy.”

“I do not understand why one would need to break out of prison as a child.” 

Kirk smiled sardonically. “Not all parents are logical, kid. Sometimes the ones who are supposed to look out for us mess up and do the wrong thing.”

Stavik was quiet. “That is illogical.”

“What is?”

“That any parent would not take adequate care of their child. It is illogical.”

“Yeah,” Kirk mused. But that’s humans for you. “You’re parents were pretty great, huh?”

Stavik paused, then raised his chin. “Indeed.”

Jim smiled brightly. “Tell me about them. What were their names?”

Quietly, the small boy acquiesced. They spent the next few hours in modest conversation. When Stavik ran out of things to say, Jim told him stories about the Enterprise. 

“They’re looking for us,” Kirk promised. 

“You sound very certain.”

“I am. I don’t think Lieutenant Uhura has the patience to train another captain.” He smiled over the gadget in his hands. “She’ll tear up the universe searching for me before she ever agrees to a replacement.” 

“This woman sounds unstable,” Stavik told him. “Is she quite safe?”

Kirk laughed. “Yeah,” he said, still chuckling. “Give her a pumpkin spice latte before Alpha shift and she’ll be your friend forever.”

Stavik appeared to take this into consideration. He opened his mouth to respond and a yawn overtook him. 

“Hey, you’re tired.” Kirk slid closer. “Why don’t you lean against me? That way you’ll be warm and I can wake you if something happens.”

“I do not require sleep at this time.” He sounded affronted at the idea. 

“Alright.” Kirk let it go. The impromptu door-code-hacker was almost done. The hardware was fairly simple, but he was human and his eyes were not made to work in darkness. In addition, the migraine was back with enthusiastic delight, gnawing away at his head like a parasite in digestive heaven. 

He made a final tweak to the device and tucked it away, back into his pants. The cold raised immediate goose bumps along his skin. He shoved his hands into his armpits and drew his knees close, wincing as the metal of the screen and rod slid down to a very uncomfortable place. He ignored it – with effort – and tried to shut out the chill. 

Stavik leaned closer, shivering, too. In another ten minutes, the boy’s forehead was pressed against his arm and he was asleep.


	5. And the Universe is Entertained

Anger. Frustration. Emotions filtered through Spock’s mind as he stared out the viewscreen; he dismissed them with cool efficiency and turned to analyze the bridge crew. 

They were the best. Jim always said so and he was inclined to agree with his captain. In the past four months of service alone, they had proven their excellence as the most competent and courageous team Spock had ever worked with. 

And yet. 

He glanced back out the screen at the escape pod floating gently before them. 

“Explain, Mister Chekov.”

“Sir, it appears the pod contains a signal transmitter designed to interrupt and then rewrite its own signature as read by outside scanners. It is wery clewer, sir.”

The screen readout identified the craft as a mid-sized medical evacuation shuttle. So elegant was the program’s code that it went so far as to show five life forms aboard, when the craft could have scarcely held more than one. In reality, it was empty. 

Clever, indeed. Self-doubt and blame were illogical; the signal’s integrity made it such that anticipating a move like this could not have been possible. But Spock felt responsible. Not only did he feel like a fool, his concern for his bondmate suddenly doubled, even hidden as it was in the depths of his mind. These abductors were more intelligent and in possession of more advanced technology than Spock had expected, which played to their advantage. This upper hand did not suite well for Jim. 

“Open a channel to Admiral Komack.”

Spock returned to the captain’s chair. A second of blankness filled the viewscreen, and then Komack appeared. 

“Captain Spock.”

“Admiral, we have encountered an unforeseen difficulty.” Spock quickly filled the human in on events.

Komack breathed a deep sigh, bringing a hand up to rub the creases in his forehead. “I understand. Unfortunately, our obligations at this point leave us with a difficult choice to make. Kirk’s safety is of course a high concern, but our top priority is obtaining this alliance with Rinel. Report back to the planet, Captain. We have made a promise to uphold the establishment of this treaty and to protect the Rine people.”

Spock’s shoulders stiffened. “Sir, if the explosion was indeed a mere diversion employed to abduct Captain Kirk, the people of Rinel are in no present danger. Conversely, the captain is in the hands of highly capable and intelligent beings with unknown ultimate intentions. We are currently eight hours behind in our attempt to recover him. If we return to the planet, we will lose days, if not weeks – time we will not regain. It is highly unlikely that any attempt to relocate the enemy vessel after such a time will occur before damage is rendered to Captain Kirk and –”

“Acting Captain!” Komack interrupted, leaning forward. An irritated scowl decorated his heavy jowls. “As an officer of Starfleet, Captain Kirk knew the risks of his duty and the sacrifices. Of anyone, Kirk is equipped to handle this situation the best. The people of Rinel are not so equipped and we have made it our responsibility to ensure both their protection and the survival of their relationship with the Federation. You have your orders, Mr. Spock. Return to the planet.”

The communication ended. Spock leaned back in the chair, staring at the blank space on the screen. The gentle purr of the ship filled the bridge; all else was silent. 

There was no question as to what he had to do. He hit a button on the chair’s arm for ship-wide transmission. “We have been ordered to return to Rinel to pursue the Federation’s allegiance with the planet. I intend to continue searching for Captain Kirk. Any who disagree and wish to adhere to our orders are welcome to board shuttles and return to the planet without fear of professional or personal retribution. Acting Captain Spock out.”

He raised his head and saw the officers of the bridge looking back at him. Uhura crossed her arms. “With all due respect, sir… shut up. I’m with you.”

“Me, too,” Sulu said and turned back to his station without another word. He and Chekov began analyzing coordinates. Nods of agreement reached him from all corners of the room. Most appeared to have just ignored him and returned to work. 

Ten minutes later, no shuttles had been prepped for departure and the crew of the Enterprise stood at hand for service to their captain. Spock found he was not surprised. As the ship launched into warp 10 in the general direction of their former quarry, Uhura spun around and came to stand at his shoulder. 

He raised a brow at her. “You’re not making any friends, you know, with the way you keep doubting the loyalty of the crew,” she said, raising a brow back at him. 

“I do not doubt their loyalty,” he said. “Merely their desire to readily observe my command as a suitable alternative. There is a reason I am not the captain, Nyota.” 

“You’re underestimating yourself,” she said quietly, more seriously. “It’s been a long three years, Spock. People look up to you.” Then with a quick smile, she added, “I think they’ll respect anyone who can keep Kirk in line.”

“Then by default, I believe that regard must also apply to yourself and Dr. McCoy.” Before she walked away, he said softly, “Thank you, Nyota.”

She squeezed his forearm reassuringly and returned to her station. 

A court martial awaited him. It was a certainty. The Enterprise and his position alongside his captain would be ripped from him very shortly. But the alternative was not acceptable; he would not leave Jim to the mercies of his abductors and risk losing him. 

His captain was very loose with his personal safety. This was something he had gotten used to and compensated for in every away mission they had taken together since the outset of their five-year voyage. Spock did not think Jim appreciated the depth of pain it caused him to see his bondmate in peril. Even when they were barely friends – in the events culminating in and following the use of Khan’s blood to revive the captain – it had distressed Spock to see Jim in any kind of physical, emotional, or mental discomfort. 

They were t’hy’la. Telsu. No matter what happened to Spock, he would find a way to Jim. He watched the stars flash by and settled back to wait. 

 

…

 

Ten hours later, the Enterprise had been unsuccessful on a level that was completely alien to them all. 

They had continued in the original direction of the freight-class ship. It would not come as a surprise to Spock if the abductors had changed course after the Enterprise followed the escape pod. Despite the Enterprise’s advanced speed capabilities, the freighter had managed to lose them. 

In the elapsed time, Starfleet had issued a court martial against Spock and levied extreme consequences against the crew of the Enterprise if they did not take action against their Acting Captain. 

Against all logic, Spock had long ago accepted his captain’s rejection of no-win scenarios because with Jim, even the least possible of favorable outcomes became plausible. It seemed that in lieu of their captain, Spock would have be the one to manufacture illogical odds from seemingly nothing. 

“Contact Lieutenant Winston on Rinel.”

Uhura moved to comply. A few seconds later, the Lieutenant’s voice came through the bridge. 

“Any luck, sir?” he asked, omitting greetings.

“We have, so far, had no success.” Spock leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Lieutenant, access Rinel’s planetary security grid. Look for any freight-class ships in the vicinity of the planet during the timeframe of the captain’s abduction.”

“Aye, sir. Anything else?”

“I will inform you of any additional requests. Thank you, Lieutenant.” Winston closed the communication. Spock made a mental note of his efficiency. 

“Mister Sulu, you have the conn.”

Spock exited to the turbolift. Jim’s message kept returning to the forefront of his mind. It had been their captain, without a doubt. His captors had some how coerced him into sending it. 

The lift stopped and he walked briskly to Med Bay. Raynard occupied the furthest bed. McCoy did not see him come in and went into his office. Spock followed. 

“Doctor McCoy.”

“Captain Spock.” McCoy sat heavily in the chair behind his desk and looked up at him. “What can I do for you?”

“I wished to employ your services as Jim’s… friend.” Spock handed the doctor the PADD he’d been studying; it bore Jim’s message on the front screen. “It is my opinion that the captain did indeed write this. But given our certain circumstances, it might be prudent to believe that he hid an indication of his true whereabouts inside the message.”

McCoy leaned back in his chair and peered closely at the PADD. Finally, he said, “Well, I’m a doctor, not a cryptanalyst. But I think we’ve got a few of those in the language department, don’t we?”

Spock raised his chin in agreement. “Indeed.”

“Jim took a cryptology elective in high school from a local college,” McCoy said. “He self-plagiarized in his second year at the Academy and turned in a paper he wrote about code in war zones. Let the analysts know that; it might help. I think it’s reasonable to consider this message isn’t all it seems to be.”

“That is my belief as well, doctor.” Spock took the PADD back and bid the doctor goodbye. The language department, headed by Lieutenant Uhura for the last three years, was well endowed in its skillset. McCoy’s recommendation was sound. If the captain’s friend and his bondmate could not unscramble the message, then there was a great deal of hope to be had in the language analysts. 

He gave an ensign the PADD and explained his idea of a coded message. 

“Yes, sir,” the young man nodded. “If there’s anything in this, we’ll find it.”

Spock left, feeling an ounce of his confidence return, and entered the lift to the bridge.


	6. A Breakthrough and a Setback

“Five freight-class ships were operating on Rinel at the time of the explosion,” Winston informed Spock an hour later. The Enterprise had come to a complete halt. With no conclusive heading, it was better to remain immobile than to continue at warp 10 in the wrong direction. 

“Of the five, three are still on the planet; they appear to be of Rine origin, but I’ll dig deeper into that to be sure. The two that left were DTR-20471, the Vidleeg, and DLN-30492, the Rhog. The Vidleeg registered nine life forms on entry, ten on exit. The Rhog’s passenger number remained the same at six life forms.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Please send your findings regarding the three ships that remained on Rinel.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Spock cut the communication and sat at his terminal. McCoy, stone-faced and full of metaphors, had dismissed him from the bridge shortly after a third message from Starfleet arrived with a reiteration of Spock’s court martial. The rest of the bridge crew had taken regular shifts to eat and sleep. He had been awake for 28.93 hours. 

While some weariness did press at the backs of his eyes, need for productivity pulled him away from any chance of sleep at this time. 

He expertly hacked through the controls that restricted his ship access. Jim had installed a series of codes that gave him admission to classified materials meant only for captains and admirals. After all, if Spock were to be an effective First Officer, he needed to be on the same level as Kirk to give well-rounded advice. Spock could hardly argue with his captain’s logic, even though – at the time – he had been uncomfortably reminded of the Kobayashi Maru 

Under the cover provided by the codes, which rendered him invisible, he found and accessed the records of all undercover Starfleet personnel currently investigating human trafficking. 

He quickly composed a message to all of them including information regarding the type of explosive used in the attack on Rinel, all known details of the FR-class ship, the Vidleeg, and a description of each person from the team in the Matriarch’s memory. 

Please respond post-haste. The life of a Starfleet captain is in jeopardy. 

He concluded with the brief plea and sent it. While many of the recipients were too far undercover to risk checking communication channels, he had to hope that at least one of them would receive it and be able to provide intelligence. 

He leaned back and stared at the computer, considering all that he knew. Progress was being made from multiple angles. Winston was now looking into he other three ships, in the event that the attack was Rinel-based. Spock doubted the likelihood of this option; his bond with Jim was very strong. A distance stretched between them now that pulled them so far apart, the bond could not show him his other half. If the captain were still on Rinel, then they would still be able to see each other. 

The cryptanalysts had been studying the message nonstop since he gave it to them. He hoped that Jim – with his genius intellect that he hid so well – had found a way to conceal information in his note. It would be their best lead if they uncovered it. 

And now the entire undercover network of Starfleet knew about their situation. The abductors could have taken the captain for any vast number of reasons; slavers and traffickers were only one branch of the equation. Kirk was a hated person in a large portion of the universe for his success in their mission so far. His enemies were numerous.

Just as he turned to his meditation mat, the terminal pinged. He opened the communication. Ensign Ramonat in the language department appeared. 

“Commander – I mean Captain,” she said excitedly. “We decrypted the message, sir. Your tip about war codes really helped. We were able to go through and rule out a bunch of tough computing cyphers. It ended up being pretty easy in the end, sir.”

“What was the encrypted message, Ensign?” Spock asked immediately. 

“Sending it to you now, sir.” Spock nodded and opened the attached file. 

Enterprise, 

I’m alright. My captors had planned on selling me, but thankfully they were a bunch of shitheads. I would like to take this opportunity to emphasize that whatever reputation is floating around that paints me as a moron is completely undeserved. I’m free and heading for the Dalorian system with some others who were imprisoned with me. 

Don’t worry. We’re all fine.  
JTK

The message had been encrypted with a variable switch cypher in a version of English shorthand used in the Terran Third World War. Notes from the analysts were scribbled in the margins. 

smll vlcn chld w m. t orn. 

Small Vulcan child with me. To Orion. 

It was simple. But it was all Spock needed. He dismissed the Ensign after instructing her to send a copy of the translated message to Lieutenant Uhura on the bridge. 

“Spock to bridge.”

“Yes, Keptin?” Chekov’s voice filled the space. 

“Set course for Orion, maximum warp.”

The ship’s constant purring increased to a low, whirring din and the ship took off at warp 12. He took off his boots, dropped the PADD on the bedside table, and slipped under the covers, not bothering to undress. 

From their current position, it would be at least eleven hours before they reached the Orion system. They were under way; there was nothing he could do further at this point. Exhaustion finally took him under. 

 

…

 

The terminal let out a soft chime, pulling Spock’s eyes open immediately. He got up and went to the computer. The screen was lit with a blocked communication. 

He opened it. 

 

The Vidleeg is captained by Ikarus. We do not know his real name, but he does not go by anything else. The Vidleeg is known for interplanetary transport of slaves and animals used in gladiatorial fights on Orion. 

Ikarus is ruthless and cunning. Despite the small scale of his operation, he is a major player in the slave trade. Do not underestimate him. 

His crew changes frequently, but the Orion female and large male sound like a pair of mercenaries I’ve seen before. The Orion is dangerous; the male is Viktal. He is half G’tenoran. Nothing to worry about in the brains department, but very strong and loyal to the Orion. 

Best of luck.

 

His internal chronometer told him only three point one hours had passed since he had initially fallen asleep. The response from an individual of the undercover network had arrived much more quickly than he had anticipated, but he was thankful for the promptness. 

This confirmed Orion as the destination. 

Spock stood and lit his meditation candles. Eight hours remained until the Enterprise entered the Orion system; he needed to think clearly. In eight hours, he needed to know how to proceed on a planet of volatile culture with unsteady relations with the Federation. 

Legs folded underneath him, he took a breath and fell into the deepness of his own mind

 

…

 

This was not good. There was yelling in the hall. Ikarus and the Orion, mostly, but he also heard the voice of a male he had not met before. 

Stavik stirred against his shoulder. “Wake up, kid,” he urged. The young Vulcan jerked upright. 

“What is happening?” he asked instantly. 

“I don’t know.” Kirk stood. He looked down at the front of his pants; the device wasn’t obvious, pressed flat as it was against his hip. 

He went to the barred door. The voices came down the hall. He saw the flaming hair of the Orion just as she rounded the corner and came up the steps. A ferocious snarl was plastered on her face. 

“You!” she shouted. He backed away just has her hand snapped in to grab the front of his shirt. He narrowly avoided her fingers. “What did you tell them?”

“What?”

“Your fucking ship, Kirk! What did you tell them? In your message, what did you say?” she demanded, pressing against the door like she wanted to break it down. 

“I d–”

“Quiet!” Ikarus barked. He grabbed a handful of the Orion’s hair and yanked her backwards. She screeched and turned on him with clawed hands. 

One swipe and Ikarus’s face bore four long scores across the forehead. He shouted in rage and threw her to the ground. She rolled out of the way before he could stomp on her ribcage. 

“This is your fault!” she growled. “Took Starfleet’s golden boy from right under their nose and you thought nothing would happen?”

He delivered a swift kick to her shoulder that she couldn’t dodge in time. “Are you doubting me, girl?”

Ikarus punched her in the face. A sharp snap signaled a broken nose. She screamed in pain. 

Asshole – Viktal – rounded the corner and roared in rage when he saw the Orion. He ran, fists raised, at Ikarus. The next events happened almost too quickly for Kirk to see. 

Ikarus pulled a phaser from under his jacket and fired. Viktal fell with the sound of a toppling tree. He didn’t get back up. Ikarus turned to the Orion and pointed the weapon in her face. 

“This is your fault,” she growled again under the onslaught of blood from her face. “Your arrogance is going to get us all killed. The Enterprise is coming to Orion; did you think they somehow wouldn’t find us?

“Rumors!” Ikarus declared angrily. “Nothing more than rumors. They fell right into the ploy with the escape pod.”

“It’s the most advanced ship in the Federation!” she shouted, voice muffled by the blood running into her mouth. “Of course they saw past it, you idiot human! They are coming. Your lead has brought us to ruin!”

She surged up and almost had her hands on him when the phaser sounded again. The Orion fell, dead. 

Ikarus ground the toe of his boot into her face, smearing the leather-synth with blood. 

He turned on Kirk, holstering the phaser. “She was right,” he said, coming nearer. “You must have gotten something out to that goddamned ship of yours; they didn’t know where we were.” He opened the door. 

“Aleca!” he shouted. Bitch-Queen rounded the corner. She took in the dead bodies and stepped over Viktal to come to Ikarus’s side. “Kill them if either moves.”

She pulled a phaser from the back of her trousers. Ikarus stepped into the cell. “Hands on your head, Kirk.”

Jim did as told, thinking over and over, don’t find it, don’t find it don’t finditdon’tfinditdon’tfindit…

Ikarus felt him up each leg and down his torso. When his hands reached Kirk’s ass, he didn’t get shy; he patted down and around his hips. 

When he felt the hard metal in his underwear, Ikarus froze. Kirk took a shot and kneed the man in the face. The corner of the display screen bit into his skin. Bitch-Queen fired, but Kirk threw himself against the wall and she hit the back bulkhead. 

Ikarus surged forward and slammed an elbow into Kirk’s neck. He went down, gasping. 

“Keep your eye on him,” Ikarus spat, wiping blood from his split lip. He knelt hard on Kirk’s abdomen and unzipped his pants. His hand felt around roughly and he pulled out the contraption. 

Kirk sucked in air, trying to calm the throbbing in his throat and lungs. Ikarus brought his foot back and slammed it into his chest, driving a grunt of pain from him. 

“Damned piece of shit,” the man muttered. “What is this, some kind of communication device? What did you tell them, huh? What did you say? Tell me!”

Through fuzzy eyes, he saw Stavik launch himself at Ikarus. It seemed to happen in slow motion, yet too fast to stop. Ikarus backhanded the small boy into the bulkhead. There was a sickening crack and he crumpled to the ground. Kirk huffed a muffled sound and tried to pull himself up. 

Ikarus turned and, for good measure, stomped on the phaser burn on Kirk’s bicep. He gasped in agony, curling into a fetal position. 

Through the blood pulsing in his ears, he heard the door swish closed and footsteps recede down the hall. 

“Stavik,” he uttered, pulling himself around enough to see the slumped figure. Green blood trickled to the floor. “No.”

No. Nonononono… ribs, throat, arm, lungs, and gut blazing in pain, he crawled to his fallen companion. 

“C’mon, kid,” he muttered, gently pulling the boy into his arms. The black-capped head rolled on his arm. A vibrant, ugly bruise marred his temple. 

His chest rose and fell very, very slightly. Kirk breathed with him, startled by the frailty of the figure in his lap. He was so small. 

He held the boy close and tried to get the sound of Stavik’s head against the wall out of his mind. 

Spock. Come on, Spock. Where are you?


	7. When a Captain Goes Down (His Men Follow)

Violence was against the Vulcan way. His sa-mekh had been his instructor of such traditional values and morals. And yet, Stavik believed he would not have been ashamed that his son attempted to aid Captain Kirk by attacking Ikarus. After all, his sa-mekh had defended his ko-mekh in much the same way when their transport craft was overtaken. 

In his mind, the limp, crumpled end of his familial bond ached and mourned the loss of his parents. It had been many months, but the pain did not dwindle with time. Most of his days on the Vidleeg were spent in isolation, cut off from the other prisoners. One by one, those individuals were sold and replaced by new strangers. It was a solitary existence. Despite his desire to be alone – as a Vulcan, he needed no companionship – something died inside him with each week that passed. 

Now he had a companion. Jim Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise, bondmate of S’chn T’gai Spock, half-Vulcan. The human was illogical. He asked questions and told narratives of his life with no prompting or purpose. For hours, he spoke about… nothing. Meaningless and trivial information that provided no immediate assistance to their current position. 

Kirk would be gone soon, too. He was intended to become a slave on the planet Orion. And Stavik would be alone in his cell again. 

This thought distressed him. Logical, he reasoned. Kirk presented a skillset that held the potential for escape. Odds of survival improved when the members of a team increased in number, even though Stavik could not quantify the probabilities. 

It was then that Stavik realized something was on his head. His eyes flew open. 

Something was not on his head. Indeed, it was the other way around: his head was on something. His eyes focused slowly. A shape came into view. 

“Easy there, kid,” Kirk soothed when he realized his head was in the man’s lap and tried to get up. “You’ve got a concussion. You need to lay down.”

The darkness soothed his eyes, which were gradually beginning to ache. With distant awareness, he realized that Kirk was avoiding skin-to-skin contact. He did not believe he could shield against human emotions right now and appreciated the captain’s effort. 

“What has happened?” he asked, feeling somewhat nauseated. 

“Ikarus killed two of his crew,” Kirk told him softly. “And then he found the device I’ve been working on. You tried to help, but he threw you into the bulkhead. You’ve been unconscious for a long time, Stavik.”

His voice communicated gentle worry. A fruitless emotion, as fretting solved nothing. Kirk moved a little and then something dabbed at his forehead. 

“You Vulcans and your hard heads,” Kirk muttered. “Makes you stubborn as hell, but damn if it’s not worth it in the end.”

Stavik did not know how to respond – he was sure he’d just been insulted – but his brain did not immediately allow him to formulate a reply. And then it occurred to him that Kirk had been speaking to himself. Surely that was a sign of mental instability. 

“The Enterprise is coming,” Kirk said suddenly. “They said it was coming to Orion. They’ll find us, Stavik. This is almost over.”

Stavik closed his eyes again. He was so tired. 

“No, no, no,” Kirk shook his shoulder a little. “You can’t sleep, now. I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

Stavik tried to speak, but the only think that came out was, “Hmm.”

“Come on, I’ll tell you a story, alright?” Kirk negotiated. “You have to stay awake.”

He managed to not fall asleep. Kirk rambled on and on with a story about someone called Sherlock Holmes. Stavik lost track of the plot, but the sound of Kirk’s voice kept him awake. Oddly, he got the feeling that if he weren’t injured, Kirk’s voice would be quite successful in lulling him down to sleep. 

 

…

 

Ikarus stood on the bridge of the FR-class ship. They came out of warp three minutes ago, shuddering and clunking. It was a pathetic piece of junk, but it ran and that’s all he cared about. In a few hours, he’d be rich enough to retire on Risa. Yes, the Enterprise was following them again. Yes, Starfleet would find the freighter. But by then, Kirk would be sold and he would be out of the system. 

Behind him, Dodge and Aleca managed their stations silently. Woodrow was below, checking on the animals headed for a fighting pit just outside of Orion’s main hub. Viktal and Frina were sprawled in cooling puddles of their own blood in the slave hold. 

“Sir, we’re being hailed,” Dodge said. The screen flickered for a moment and then an Orion male leaned forward to peer at them all. 

“Nilan,” Ikarus greeted, flashing a dangerous smile. “Pleasure to see you.”

“Ikarus.” Nilan bared his teeth. “I hear you’ve got expensive cargo.”

“Where would you hear something like that?” Ikarus asked, not really paying attention. The readout on the station in front of him indicated Nilan’s ship was arming weapons. The Vidleeg’s shield system had been destroyed three months ago. “What are you doing, Nilan?”

“I believe you humans call this ‘revenge.’” Dodge worked furiously behind him to get the weapons system online. That, too, had been touch-and-go operationally for the last several months. 

A shot rocked the ship. Ikarus was thrown off his feet by the unexpected blast. Nilan grinned and then the screen went dead. “Goddamn it, where are my weapons, Dodge?”

The man did not respond. Ikarus picked himself up and turned. Dodge had been thrown across his station. An explosion of sparks burned his face. Ikarus growled and threw the body to the ground. He called up the back up system and primed phasers. A second shock rolled the ship. The stabilizers were done for. 

Ikarus looked around, feeling rage and panic surge through his blood like ice. “No!” he screamed. The weapons system finally chimed, alert and ready for use. With a cruel, mad grin, he fired everything. 

That was the last memory he had, before he plunged into darkness with his ship. 

 

…

 

Kirk held onto Stavik hard as the ship rolled. The boy clung to his arms, curled against his body. They rocked again, thrown hard against the walls. Stavik bit back a pained cry. 

“Hold on,” Kirk told him. “Just hold on to me. Du shar-tor ha. It’s okay.”

Kirk’s head impacted the bulkhead and he grunted. Then, there was a massive explosion. It wracked the whole ship and hurled them, tumbling apart, to the floor again. 

The ship went black. Entirely, damnably dark. Nothing moved. The engine gave a whine and then nothing… not a sound. A minute passed. Kirk and Stavik remained motionless, anticipating another attack, but none came. 

“I think it’s stopped,” Kirk said. He pulled himself to his feet and helped Stavik stand. Carefully, he found his way to the door, which… was open. 

“I think the computers are down,” he whispered. “Come here; hold on to my arm so we don’t get separated.” He took a few tentative steps out into the blackness of the hallway and almost tripped over Asshole’s body. “Careful.”

They made it down the hall and around the corner to the stairs, which they navigated with great hesitancy. Kirk guided Stavik through the halls and down another set of stairs to the cargo bay. The animals in the cages made no sound. He couldn’t even hear them breathing. 

Carefully, they scaled another series of steps and reached the hallway with the bathroom. Ahead, a red flashing light illuminated the bridge through another doorway. 

They entered. One man was splayed out on the floor, electrical burns covering his face and hands. Bitch-Queen had rolled under one of the stations; she was covered in blood. And in the center of the room, lying on his face, was Ikarus. Kirk stepped forward and took the phaser from the man’s holster before feeling for a pulse. There was none. 

Small windows around the bridge revealed floating pieces of ship wreckage. Stavik called him from a window near the door. They peered out. 

“I believe there was another ship,” Stavik said quietly in the stillness. Through the window, Kirk saw the hull of a second ship, the entire engineering deck exposed and ripped to pieces. The interior – from what he could see – was a charred mess. 

“I think you’re right,” Kirk agreed softly. He turned and sat down at a blackened station. “I think I can fix this enough to send a message. Give me a minute.”

Stavik stood over his shoulder, watching Kirk piece together the broken circuitry by the flaring red light of the emergency system. 

“What the –”

Kirk stood and flung out an arm to push Stavik behind him. Chuck – Woodchuck, or whatever his name was – stood in the doorway, mouth agape. Then he pulled himself out of his stupor and grabbed a phaser from his belt. Kirk fired his first and Chuck went down. 

“You alright?” Kirk asked, turning to the boy. Stavik picked himself up from where Kirk had shoved him and nodded, tugging his sweater back into place. “I –”

Kirk began to say something, but a deep, metallic groan stopped him in his tracks. It didn’t sound good. It grew louder and deeper and Stavik brought his hands up to cover his ears as it echoed around the room. 

“What is that?” the boy yelled to be heard. Kirk winced as it grew even louder and shook his head. 

“I don’t know!” he shouted back. He took a few steps forward and tried to think past the concussive noise when it snapped. 

Something exploded like the shattering of a huge, metal pylon. A shower of sparks covered them and the emergency light went dark. And then the floor erupted. 

Stavik was thrown back into the body of Ikarus, who he rolled over and hid behind. Something enormous had come up through the floor. A massive metal shard had come up from below, rending the deck in half. He could see an inflexible cable as thick around as his wrist had been shoved up from the deck into the ceiling. The corridor beyond was swathed in thick darkness. 

“Captain?” Stavik called over the torrent of sparks that continued to rain down. “Captain Kirk?”

A wet cough broke through over the sounds of the splintered bridge. Stavik clambered over to where they had been standing. 

Kirk lay on his back, sprawled on the floor. The cable – an inch and a half wide, perhaps – had been thrust up through his back. It broke through his abdomen near his left hip and shot straight up into the ceiling. 

No. 

Stavik felt a white rush of terror claim him. No. 

He ran to the captain and slid to his side. “Hey, kiddo.”

His voice was full of blood. 

No. “Captain—”

“Hey,” Kirk muttered. “It’s okay.”

It was not okay. It was not. He did not know what to do. A painful feeling began in his throat, as if he had swallowed a knife. 

“Kid,” Kirk began again, swallowing. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.” Stavik was unsure why he said that, as he was unable to provide many things at this moment. 

“I –” Kirk coughed, a wet, sticky sound, “n-need you to go to the panel there.”

His hand flopped in the general direction of the panel on the wall by his foot. Stavik went to it and removed the metal cover. There was a sheet of thin glass behind it, protecting the buttons on the inside.”

“There is glass,” he told the captain. 

“Break it.”

Stavik looked around and found a thick piece of what appeared to have once been the bulkhead. He hefted it up into his arms and swung it at the glass, which shattered. 

“P-pull the lever.” He did. “There should be a red button.”

“There is.”

“Push it three times.” He pushed the button. A series of options lit up on the cracked viewscreen. He pushed it twice more and read the resulting text from the display. “Divert remaining power to the bridge?”

“Yes.” Stavik selected the option and confirmed. The door to the bridge slid closed and locked. “Is that all, Captain?”

“Ye—” Kirk swallowed and simply nodded jerkily. Stavik went back to his side. 

He did not understand. What had happened?

“Ship broke,” Kirk answered drily. He was not aware that he had asked the question aloud. “When the balance of the ship’s fr-rame is compromised, the tension c-can snap the backbone of the structure.”

There was a tone of self-depreciation in the captain’s voice, as if he blamed himself for this occurrence. Stavik told him otherwise. 

Kirk smiled bloodily. “Should’ve seen it comin’.”

Stavik frowned. 

“You were about to send a transmission to the Enterprise. Will you instruct me?”

Kirk shook his head and gasped. “No. Better not. Don’t want to get scavenged.”

Stavik did not understand. He thought for a second. “You mean there may be other ships nearby to come and pillage the remains of this ship?”

Kirk nodded. He could see how this effort strained the injured man, so he ceased speaking. Distress burned through his heart, which thumped uncomfortably in his side. The cable was coated in blood. The entire length had scored through Kirk’s body before becoming lodged in the ceiling above. 

“They’re coming, Stavik,” Kirk whispered reassuringly. “They’re coming.”


	8. In Which All the Vulcans Have Collective Apoplexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :) I love the reviews, you guys. They make me so happy; it's kind of ridiculous. So, just for you, here's the next chapter a little early. Happy reading, everyone! I hope you like it.

Spock meditated for a long time. While they travelled through space towards Orion, his bond with Kirk grew brighter – bright enough to illuminate the dark corners where distance had ripped Jim away. Slowly, his bondmate became clear in his mind. 

There he was. Affection, loyalty, love, worry, relief… emotions tumbled through Spock like a breaking wave. Jim was alive and well. 

He dove into the bond and let it carry him into Jim’s beautiful mind. His consciousness broke over him, refreshingly warm and strong. 

Where are you?

Spock caught the trail end of a thought and answered. I am here. 

There was no reply. He pushed the answer harder. No response. He sank into the region where his t’hy’la’s feelings were most active. 

Worry. Fear. Physical pain. Protectiveness. A child – a small Vulcan. He could see Jim’s fear for the boy. 

For the next hour, he tried to calm his bondmate’s distress. After a time, he felt Jim’s relief and knew the boy – Stavik – had woken. Residual consolation flowed into Spock like a balm on his agitated mind. 

Jim would be alright. The boy would be alright, too. At last, this fiasco was almost over. Spock pulled out of his bondmate’s mind and lovingly touched the brightly glowing bond before rising from the meditation. He put out the candles, smothered the incense, and donned his boots. 

The bridge was quiet. Chekov was too absorbed in the chart before him to announce Spock’s arrival. He walked to Lieutenant Uhura’s station and tucked his hands behind his back. 

“Sir?” she asked, looking up. “What is it?”

“The captain is well,” he told her. “I have been able access his mind through our bond. He and the child are both well.”

Uhura took a deep breath. When she exhaled, she smiled. While everyone had been worried for their missing captain, he knew that Nyota had also been anxious for the child mentioned in Kirk’s encryption. It was in her nature to be motherly. 

“ETA, Mister Chekov.”

Spock turned back to the chair as Chekov informed him, “One hour, fifteen minutes, sir.”

He sat. An hour and fifteen minutes. So little time. He leaned back in the chair and took solace in the vitality of his bond to Jim. 

We are coming. I am coming, he told it, hoping the sentiments would seep through to his t’hy’la. 

…

 

Thirty-six point six three minutes later, a horrible pain ripped through Spock’s mind. He doubled over, gasping. The bond blazed, tearing at him, grasping hard at his end as an anchor. He reached out and helped, pulling and fixing it in place. 

Pain. So much pain. Fear, too. “Something has happened to Jim,” he whispered to Uhura, incapable of louder speech. Uhura, who had sunk to her knees beside the captain’s chair, yelled for someone to call McCoy. 

He looked again at the bond and slid telepathic fingers across the thrumming surface of the strands reassuringly. He fed it with as much strength as he was able. 

I am coming, he thought. I am coming, do not give up. Hold on. I am coming. 

Spock?

He held his breath. Jim’s voice. It was quiet, but it was Jim. 

I am here, t’hy’la. 

Hurts, Spock. Hurry.

I am. I am on my way. McCoy arrived and immediately began scanning him with a tricorder. 

Is that Bones? Kirk asked. 

Yes. 

Tell him I think we’re going to need his help. Spock relayed the message, his muscles clenching as he bore the brunt of his bondmate’s agony. 

McCoy cursed. Spock echoed the sentiments sardonically. He caught the tail-end of a soft laugh from Jim before his bondmate slipped away. He grabbed and tried to keep him there, safe in Spock’s mind, but Jim left and Spock was once again alone with his thoughts. 

“Sir!” Someone shouted at him from far away. Spock blinked and focused on returning to himself. “Sir!”

“Yes?” He swallowed. The pain was still there, like a deep thorn buried in his brain. 

“Long range scanners have identified the Vidleeg, sir!” Spock brought his eyes up to the viewscreen. Sulu relayed the coordinates of the freighter.  
“Alter course,” Spock ordered gruffly. He pulled himself upright and closed his eyes against the nausea that swept over him. 

“Yes, sir!” 

“You need to come to the Med Bay,” McCoy ordered. “Now.”

Spock grabbed his arm when McCoy would have levered him out of the chair. “Doctor, I believe if I attempt mobility at this point, I may be ill.”

The doctor pulled away carefully. “Then you’re sitting right here, but I don’t want you stressing yourself out, got me?”

“Indeed,” Spock uttered. “Doctor, it is likely the captain will need extensive medical assistance. Please have an away team standing ready with adequate training and prepare the Med Bay –”

“Spock,” McCoy interrupted calmly. “This isn’t my first rodeo with Jim, okay? I’ll handle it.”

The doctor turned. Spock heard him order a nurse who had accompanied them to “keep an eye on him” before the turbolift doors swished closed again. 

He looked down and saw his fist was clenched with white-knuckle force against the arm of the chair. He found that he did not care. The bond pulsed in a feeble, weak way in his mind, floundering like a fish out of water, slowly asphyxiating. He petted it and coddled it, fed it energy, love, life – whatever it needed to survive. Kirk, on the other end, was fighting to remain conscious. 

…

 

Stavik took Kirk’s hand. Immediately, he was met with an onslaught of feelings and sensations that were not his own. Strangely, rather than overwhelming him, the emotions grounded him. Reassurance, love, relief. Some of them did not feel like Kirk at all; they felt strong and steady, cool-headed yet warm and deep. 

He wondered if he was feeling Kirk’s bondmate. If he was, then the Enterprise was closer than he realized. Focusing hard, he tried to send this encouragement into Kirk. 

The captain smiled through pale lips. “You’re doin’ great, kid.”

Red, human blood seeped out into a puddle around them. It soaked Stavik’s knees and cooled slowly, sending sick shivers up his spine. 

Kirk’s eyes slipped closed. He grabbed his hand tighter, using both of his palms to help warm the cold flesh. No! “You must remain conscious,” Stavik told him. 

The captain licked his lips drily. His eyes fluttered. “Right,” he mumbled. “’kay.”

“Captain!”

There was no reply, but Kirk moved his head. His fingers were stiff. The life support systems had failed to bring any heat into the icy space, but oxygen continued to flow readily. Stavik felt illogical resentment that the first aid kit mounted by the door had failed to yield thermal blankets or heat packs. 

It was not rational to be angry at inanimate objects. 

The life of the human on the floor – the human whose hand he held so tightly – was stumbling away. The human who asked him about his parents with quiet understanding. The one who told him stories and talked about books and thought of his bondmate with a faraway smile on his face. 

Stavik bit back a gasp of sorrow. “You cannot die,” he instructed Kirk forcefully, a sob coloring his voice with huskiness. “I will not allow it.”

Kirk offered no response. Stavik opened his mouth to speak again when a whirring light spectacle filled the bridge. Figures appeared in the glowing auras. The one closest to them turned. 

“Captain! Doctor, he’s here!”

Three men hurried towards them. Two others checked on the dead bodies lying strewn across the floor. 

“Kid, I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy,” one of the men said. “I need you to let him go, now, okay?”

Stavik stared at the man and released Kirk’s hand. Abruptly, the sensations disappeared in a rush of cold air. He scooted backwards until his back hit the wall. A male – a Vulcan, Stavik realized when he saw the man’s face – knelt at Kirk’s head. Before another figure came and obstructed his vision, he saw the Vulcan stroke gentle fingers across the captain’s face. 

“Excuse me.” Stavik looked up and saw a young human male. He crouched down before him. “My name is Eric. Will you come with me?”

Stavik nodded and stood, confused about where they could possibly be going. The bridge was destroyed; the corridor beyond was in ruin. Perhaps they had a shuttle nearby –

The man guided Stavik a short distance away and lifted a small communication unit to his mouth. “Two to beam up.”

The strange, swirling light appeared again. Stavik felt his weight disappear and the light became blinding. And then he was standing in a room on an odd pad of some sort. He looked up at the man who called himself Eric. 

“Was that beaming technology?” he asked. Eric smiled. 

“Yup,” he said. “Now I want to show you the Med Bay.”


	9. McCoy Sets the Universe Back on Track

Kirk was in surgery for fifteen hours, a grossly long time considering the medical advances of the 23rd century. 

In that time, Spock finally contacted Starfleet Command to accept his court martial and to hand the ship over to Lieutenant Commander Scott. Admiral Komack delivered a scathing admonishment of which he was no doubt very proud, as he made sure it was broadcasted ship-wide. 

But it did not have the effect Komack had so desired to see. Spock merely nodded acceptance of the sentence and signed off, leaving command of the Enterprise in the capable hands of the Chief Engineer. Now the ship was on its way back to Rinel. 

The most interesting development – perhaps because it was not expected – was Stavik’s attention to Kirk. It bordered on devotion. 

Spock entered the common room set aside for senior officers and saw the boy sitting in a chair by the window looking out at the stars. 

“Commander,” Stavik greeted when he saw Spock approach. He raised his hand in the ta’al. 

Spock nodded and returned the gesture. “I believe I have yet to thank you for attending to Captain Kirk so diligently while he was injured.”

A green blush darkened Stavik’s cheeks and ears. He ducked his head. “I attempted to assist. I do not believe I did anything truly helpful.”

“Then you believe erroneously,” Spock told him. He sat. “I… felt what you did through the bond. I also felt Jim’s appreciation at the effort you made.”

Stavik blushed again, wondering privately why the adult Vulcan would reveal such personal information. But a sizzle of pleasure at the admission also crept up with his embarrassment. It puzzled him, but he welcomed it with secret happiness. 

“The Vulcan High Council is eager to speak with you,” Spock told him, changing the subject. Stavik was glad. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “Nurse Eric informed me of their desire for communication after he treated my concussion.” Apparently, the elders had been quite forceful in their perusal of an interview with him. 

“Are you prepared to speak to them now?”

Stavik nodded. Spock turned and engaged a computer mounted into the wall. A few seconds later, the tone signaling an open channel sounded. Stavik found himself face to face with Councilwoman T’Pau and Ambassador Sarek. 

He acknowledged them with the ta’al, which they returned. The questions they asked were entirely anticipated; he had meditated to prepare for them. Spock sat to his right, a distant but present affiliate to the conversation. 

“It has been six months and four days since the vessel carrying your family disappeared,” T’Pau informed him when he said he did not know the exact length of his captivity. Stavik nodded. 

“I believe these answers will suffice for the present,” she said. “We are gratified that you have been freed and located.”

“Indeed,” Sarek added. He turned to Spock. “Son.”

“Father.” Spock saluted him. 

“Your captain was injured on the Vidleeg. What is his status?”

“Captain Kirk will recover. The wound had gone septic and required extensive attention from Doctor McCoy. In addition, the loss of blood took a heavy toll on the captain’s body, but with transfusions, he should be released on medical leave within the next week.”

Sarek nodded somberly. “I am gratified. Then you will carry out the finalizations of the treaty with Rinel?”

Spock shook his head. “No, Father. For my actions in disregarding Starfleet’s orders, I have been court martialed, pending immediate removal from service.”

Both T’Pau and Ambassador Sarek showed visible shock at the news, eyebrows dipping in confusion. “The admiral neglected to inform the High Council of the consequences of your actions,” T’Pau told him, looking more severe. “Live long and prosper, Spock. We will speak again soon. Stavik, live long and prosper.”

Both raised their hands and bid the elder and ambassador farewell. The screen went blank. 

“I did not know Starfleet had penalized you for saving Captain Kirk,” Stavik said, his forehead creased in puzzlement. “I do not understand.”

“I neglected my duty to Starfleet in order to pursue an alternate course of actions, spurred by my personal regard for the captain,” Spock said. “It is only logical that the admiralty hold me to the standard expected of all Starfleet personnel. I accept the consequences of my behavior.”

Stavik made to argue the injustice of it, but Spock’s comm beeped. “Spock!”

“Yes, Doctor?” Spock asked instantly. 

“Get down here,” McCoy ordered. “He’s awake. And you’re not al—”

Spock stowed the device and stood. Stavik watched him closely. 

“You may join me if you wish,” the Vulcan said. “I expect he will ask to see you.”

Stavik jumped up and turned off the PADD he’d been holding. Spock made no comment about his enthusiasm as they walked to the Med Bay. 

The white doors slid open, revealing the cavernous space lined with beds. Eric saw them and waved cheerfully. 

Spock walked directly to the back room, which was set up for an operation. On the bed, dressed in a post-surgical gown and clearly not happy about it, was Captain Kirk. 

He smiled when he saw them approach. His hand came out to meet Spock’s gently in a discreet Vulcan kiss. The intensity of their gaze made Stavik blush again. 

“Hey, stranger,” he said to Spock, who raised his brow a bare half-centimeter. He turned his attention to Stavik, who waited patiently by the foot of the bed. A grin appeared on his face. “How do you like the Enterprise?”

“It is an impressive ship.” 

“Better than your last accommodations?”

Stavik copied Spock’s raised eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“What’s this about you being court martialed?” Kirk turned his attention back to Spock, who stood straighter and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“It was necessary that I found you as soon as possible,” he informed the captain. “The admiralty disagreed.”

“M’hmm,” Kirk frowned. “Well, that’s not gonna stick.”

“Captain, may I remind you that you are on medical leave, confined to the Med Bay for the immediate future. Any actions you seek to take are prohib—”

“Bones!” Kirk yelled. McCoy came in looking frazzled. “Tell me I’m allowed to kick Komack’s ass and tell Spock he can go suck a plomeek. I need—”

“You need bed rest and a mental evaluation,” McCoy finished, taking the PADD from his captain. “Besides, whatever you wanted to do, the Vulcan High Council beat you to it.”

The doctor typed on the PADD and handed it back before picking up a tricorder from the bedside table to scan Kirk one more time. Jim examined the page in front of him. He started to laugh. 

“The Admiralty of Starfleet have announced a special commendation to Commander Spock and the crew of the USS Enterprise for recovering an imprisoned Vulcan boy from slave traders. The child, age six, is one of only a small percentage of children left of the decimated species, which now faces critical threats of genetic inbreeding.” Kirk read the first paragraph of the news article with a broad smile. He showed Spock. 

“I do not understand how this is possible,” the commander admitted. “T’Pau and my father only discovered I had been court martialed nine minutes ago.”

Kirk scrolled until he found the timestamp, which indicated it had been posted one minute and fourteen seconds prior. “Damn, they move fast when they want to.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “They are elders because they are wise, not because they are senile, Jim.”

Kirk just smiled. “I think this means we owe your father dinner.”

“Indeed.”

“Hey, Stavik!” The boy looked startled to be included in the conversation so suddenly. “Want to join us for dinner?”

He blinked. “Are you referring to now, or when you return to Vafer-tor to participate in a meal with the ambassador?”

“Both,” Kirk admitted. “Well, really I meant the latter, but since you mentioned food, I am hungry now.”

He looked at Spock expectantly. Spock turned to Dr. McCoy. “You can eat whatever you want,” the doctor said. “But that one” – he indicated Kirk with his tricorder – “is on a liquid diet until further notice.”

Kirk groaned like a small child just as Spock turned to Stavik and asked, “I believe I will take my meal here. You are welcome to join us.”

McCoy clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “C’mon kid, I’ll show you how to work the replicator.”

They exited, leaving Spock alone with Kirk. He stepped forward again and reached out to touch Kirk’s hand. Jim dropped the PADD on the covers of the bed and grabbed Spock’s shirt, dragging him close until he could press his face into his bondmate’s abdomen. 

They held each other for a long moment. “You worried me, ashayam.”

“I know,” Jim said, taking a deep breath. “I think I even worried myself.”

“I would ask you not to take risks, but I have asked before and you have continued to ignore my request,” Spock told him softly. “I am beginning to seriously consider padding you with TARDEC armor for future missions.”

Kirk chuckled. Spock would do it, too. 

“We need a vacation.” Spock hummed in agreement. “What do you think of Stavik?”

Spock pulled away at the question to look down at Jim. “My father sent his VIA exam results to me at my request. He achieved a near perfect score.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“The VIA is a test taken in early childhood to determine a Vulcan’s level of intelligence and to what areas of study he is most suited. While my education was well-rounded, my exam results indicated I had a talent for quantitative reasoning and deduction, which tailored my studies to a specific program as I grew.”

“And what area does Stavik shine in?” Kirk asked, settling back on the pillows. 

“Critical analysis, specifically in language,” Spock said. “The xenolinguistics department of Starfleet Academy would be very appropriate for his future studies.”

“Planning out his career already?” Kirk teased. A second passed and his smile faded a little. “I wonder if we’ll ever see him again, after the High Council places him with a family on Vafer-tor.”

Spock frowned slightly. McCoy and Stavik returned before he could reply. They pulled up chairs and sat, eating and talking quietly for the remainder of the evening. Doctor McCoy informed him that for the next two days, Spock was on light duty, limited to reports and ongoing experiments. “No active bridge-time, understand?”

Apparently Spock’s lack of sleep and determination to forego all personal health in the face of danger to his bondmate had given McCoy gray hairs. He accepted the doctor’s orders without complaint, which told everyone exactly how tired he was. 

He caught Jim’s knowing look and continued eating. When it came to protecting one another, Spock and Kirk were equally as fierce. So, when Kirk yawned, Spock stood and bid his captain goodnight, knowing his bondmate needed rest to recover. 

Stavik’s quarters for his stay on the Enterprise were actually Uhura’s old rooms, before the hall was reconfigured. When Spock and Kirk combined living spaces during an extended shore leave, Nyota had put in a request to move closer to the language department. Her old quarters had been appropriated as guest accommodations. 

Spock prepared for bed in quiet contentment. The bond glowed strongly, soothing and alive. As he pulled the blankets around him, he felt Jim slip into his mind. A smile crossed his lips gently. Kirk drew the warmth of Spock’s thoughts around him in a mental cocoon and drifted off to sleep. 

Spock cradled his bondmate close and tucked himself telepathically near before following him into slumber.


	10. Happy Captain, Happy Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and stayed with me to the end! This is my first fanfic for Star Trek. I haven't written in almost 8 years, so it's nice to know people enjoy it enough to come back. 
> 
> I'm planning more installments for the series. Keep an eye out! And happy reading. :)

Kirk broke a nail. In that split second, he had more respect for the females of his species than he’d ever had before. 

McCoy wandered in and saw him fussing over the incapacitated finger. “Your own fault,” he said unsympathetically, snatching the tricorder from Jim that he had been trying to manipulate open. “Last time you took apart my personal tricorder, I had Scotty put it back together with silica cement.”

“That was three years ago, Bones!”

“It told me Spock was female the next time I tried to use it,” the doctor retorted. “Quit whining. You can leave.”

Kirk perked up. “I can go?”

“That’s what I said.”

When McCoy turned around a second later, Kirk was already trotting happily out the door, which slid closed behind him. 

“What an infant.” McCoy shook his head and returned to the young ensign who managed to shut his hand in the industrial-sized laundry machine four decks down. 

…

 

Spock was on duty when Jim got to their quarters. But he’d expected that and fell face-first onto the bed, happy to be out of the sterile confines of the Med Bay. 

Hey, he thought to his bondmate, reaching for that sensation in the back of his head that represented his tie to Spock. You on the bridge?

Yes. Then after a moment, Do you need me?

Nope. Jim rolled over, pulling the covers around him as he did. Just wanted to tell you I’m free. Bones let me go, finally. 

You are still on medical leave, Spock reminded him. He could hear the censure in his mental voice. 

I’m not going to do anything stupid, Jim protested. He nuzzled into the pillow that smelled like Spock. Wake me up when you get off duty, ‘kay?

Sleep, Jim. He felt his First Officer retreat, going back to his obligations on the bridge. 

Jim slept. 

Spock returned at the end of his shift. He moved quietly into the room; Jim had asked to be woken, but he looked at his bondmate’s face and knew he required more rest. 

The terminal pinged. Kirk rolled over with a groan. “Turn it off,” he mumbled, pressing his face into the mattress. “Don’t wanna get up.”

“You do not have to,” Spock told him, going over to the computer to access the message. “A Vulcan healer has boarded the USS Resolute to Starbase 9. She will arrive on Rinel in eight days.”

“And we still have a week of shore leave after the treaty is finished, right?”

“Indeed,” Spock said, turning towards the bed. “However, in your condition, I believe Dr. McCoy will stipulate minimum activity during your leave.”

Jim cast a baleful look in his direction. It morphed slowly into something more flirtatious. He sat up, leaning back on his elbows. “Are you sure?” he asked, a grin teasing his lips. “Minimum activity can be so boring when we have… other things to do.”

“If you are attempting to insinuate intercourse,” Spock said, turning to hang up his uniform shirt, “I assure you, my resolve in catering to your health far outweighs any desire for physical congress.”

Jim’s mouth fell open. “Did you just say you didn’t want me?” he gaped. 

“I did not.” Spock was familiar with this general flair for the dramatic that Kirk always seemed to be inclined towards. If he were entirely honest – and Vulcans did not lie – he would say it was one of the many things about Jim he cherished. But he believed that actually telling his bondmate this information could be labeled under the category of ‘Hazardous Ideas.’ 

Kirk flopped back on the bed. 

A matter pressed for priority in Spock’s mind. He paused. “Jim.”

Kirk heard the hesitance in his voice and looked up. “What’s up?”

Spock sat gingerly on the bed beside him. Kirk untangled himself from the covers and moved to sit cross-legged in front of his bondmate. “I… I wonder if you are well enough to attempt a mind meld with me?”

Kirk looked at him with a curious smile. “Always, you know that.”

Spock reached for Jim’s psi points and concentrated, easily sliding into his mind. Immediately, the feelings of love and contentment that flowed constantly from the bond amplified, surrounding him lazily. 

He moved inward, searching. What are you looking for?

Jim’s question came from outside him and within him at the same time. The sheer compatibility they shared never failed to awe him. 

When you were wounded on the Vidleeg, I thought I saw something in your mind. Given the circumstances, it might have been caused by a number of factors. But I feel obligated to make certain… 

He came to where he saw it last – just a vague, brief spark of something that had been quickly masked by Kirk’s pain and Spock’s fear. 

It was still there. Small and delicate, but clearly there. A bond of a different kind. 

Spock, what is it? He felt Jim move closer on the bed, their knees and thighs touching. 

It is a familial link, he replied. Kirk’s awareness sharpened as he moved through his subconscious mind, peering curiously at the little light. 

With who? Kirk asked. He reached out gentle telepathic fingers and petted the link tenderly. It pulsed. 

Curiosity, life, energy, young attentiveness… a thousand shards of glowing light pulsed at once, each carrying a different essence. Behind, on a second, subtler wave, came feelings of hope, of loneliness and heartache. 

He felt Jim’s breathlessness. “Stavik.”

Spock opened his eyes and carefully pulled out of his bondmate’s mind. “Indeed.”

Kirk blinked and his eyes came to focus on Spock, who was only inches from his face. “What does it mean?”

“It means that at some point during your captivity, most likely when you had lain dying on the bridge,” Spock said, “Stavik formed a fledgling familial bond with you. All young Vulcans have telepathic awareness of family members. It allows parents to guide their children into mental control and stability and provides support within the nuclear unit so that the family may run smoothly. Over time, it fades and eventually disappears as the child reaches maturity.”

“So,” Kirk licked his dry lips, frowning, “I just adopted Stavik.”

“More accurately, Stavik adopted you. While young, I can see the link has the potential to be strong. Even my bond with you has moved to accommodate it.”

Kirk’s eyes shot to his. “Is it endangering our bond?”

Spock tilted his head. “No,” he said at last. “Given your receptivity to Stavik, our bonds have merely adjusted to each other’s presence in your mind. Given the solidity of our existing bond, I believe the only repercussion of this adjustment could be that through our mutual attachment to you, my mind and Stavik’s will eventually acclimatize to each other… enough to form a separate link of our own.”

Jim was quiet for a full minute, staring into space with wide eyes. He swallowed. “Shit, Spock, did we just get a kid?”

“I believe so,” he told his shocked bondmate. “The Vulcan healer will be able to definitively say whether or not the link should be severed, but it is my belief that with the trauma Stavik has experienced thus far, it would be inadvisable to destroy a bond of this kind so early in his life.”

“Shit, yeah,” Kirk muttered, burying his face in his hands and rubbing his tired eyes. “Poor kid’s been through hell and back.”

Spock was silent. He observed his bondmate somewhat concernedly. Stress was not good for Jim at this point in his recovery. He wondered if he had made a mistake in informing Jim of his awareness of the link. 

“Is the High Council likely to demand early retirement for the two of us, so we can go raise him on Vafer-tor?”

“I do not know,” he replied. “It is fruitless to deliberate on such things. The healer will advise the Council after she analyzes the situation and then we will be informed of what is expected of us.”

Jim exhaled hard. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right.”

He sunk back down on the bed and pulled Spock so that they both reclined on the jumbled mess of pillows and blankets. Jim scooted until his head rested on Spock’s abdomen. His hand crept up under the soft, black shirt to stroke the skin and muscle over Spock’s heart. 

“What are you thinking?” Spock asked softly. He could easily just see into Kirk’s mind, but he found there was much to be said for the trust Jim gave him when they shared voluntarily what normally would be kept quiet. 

“I’m thinking of the time Sam and I trapped a rabbit in the garage and tried to bring it into the house and put a puppy collar on it.” Kirk shuffled a little until he was comfortable again. Spock’s fingers found their way into his hair, stroking and petting absentmindedly. “I feel like I just brought home another pet and now I don’t know how to take care of it.”

“Stavik is a Vulcan, not a pet,” Spock reminded him. 

“I know.”

For a few moments, they were both quiet, and then Kirk spoke up again. 

“Although,” he said, “if we give him plenty of vegetables and water, and we make sure he’s adequately stimulated and given time to exercise daily, he could be a lot like that rabbit.”

A glaring silence met his pronouncement. He lifted his head to grin at Spock. “We’ve been thinking about this all wrong,” he said. “Stavik could be the Enterprise’s new mascot.”

“No.”

“It takes a village to raise a child, Spock. Let me up, I need to go tell Bones he’s an uncle.”

Spock pulled Jim back down when he made to get up. He rolled over and pinned his smiling bondmate to the bed. 

“No.” He glared for good measure, which Kirk met with a happy smirk. Something twisted and warmed inside and – despite his resolve to avoid sexual interaction – he could not help but lean down and press his lips firmly against Jim’s. 

Kirk sighed and closed his eyes, kissing him back. They stayed that way for several minutes, gently holding each other. Spock turned his face to place a line of soft kisses down Jim’s jaw and chin. 

“Love you, ashayam.” 

He kissed Jim again. 

“I love you, t’hy’la,” he replied softly against Kirk’s lips. And all was well. 

 

 

\+ Epilogue 

Kirk returned to duty after mandatory shore leave. He happy walked into the Mess, nodding and smiling to the crew that waved and greeted him. A breakfast of waffles and bacon sounded really good; he ordered from the replicator and sat down next to Sulu and Chekov, who beckoned him over. 

“Morning, Keptin,” the Russian chirped, grinning broadly. 

“Did you both have a good shore leave?”

The both nodded and Sulu launched into a story about getting lost with Scotty because they couldn’t find any good bars in the capital city of Rinel. Kirk listened and smiled, glad to be back. 

“Excuse me.” Uhura came up to their table and looked at Kirk. “Captain, would you mind telling me why Stavik just brought me a latte and said it was ‘a peace offering?’” 

When Jim broke down laughing, she glared and turned to level the look at Spock, who had just walked in. 

“Do not expect me to always be able to explain the captain’s behavior,” Spock said, before she could even open her mouth. He looked down at his giggling bondmate. “I am not responsible for his illogicalities.” 

Nyota took a sip of her pumpkin spice latte, brows furrowed, and observed Kirk trying to bait Spock into an argument. That kid was going to need a lot of help if he intended to survive with Captain Kirk and Commander Spock as his new parents. 

 

Fin.


End file.
